


The Rainy Season

by shimmermetimbers



Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: Booty Bay, Cross-Faction Romance, Denial of Feelings, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Internal Conflict, Opposites Attract, Orcs are hot
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-10
Updated: 2021-02-08
Packaged: 2021-03-06 04:54:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 16,183
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25817617
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shimmermetimbers/pseuds/shimmermetimbers
Summary: Thorg is a jaded, world weary orc who lives in Booty Bay running a bar called the Run a Rig with a motley crew of employees from both factions. He wants to enjoy life after experiencing unspeakable horrors during war. One of his favorite ways of doing that is by taking his pleasure with women, especially those from the Alliance, who express curiosity about big, fierce orcs.Kira is a sheltered human whose apprenticeship in the healing arts lands her a post in Booty Bay. The atmosphere in the city is exciting and a sense of adventure and freedom encourage her to explore an unexpected infatuation with "the enemy."It seems straightforward: a one-night stand without any attachments. Neither Thorg nor Kira are looking for a serious relationship. They are both quite sure and clear about this.But affairs of the heart are rarely simple...
Relationships: Female Human(s)/Male Orc(s) (Warcraft)
Comments: 22
Kudos: 62





	1. First Contact

Thorg Rockmaul looked up from the tankard he was filling.

There she was. 

The human woman had been coming to his bar, the Run a Rig, almost every night, for a week. The first time he spotted her, she was there with a group. He’d made note of it because, while it was not unusual in Booty Bay for both Alliance and Horde to share the same public spaces, the Rig tended to cater more to Horde patrons and hers had been a larger party of Alliance folk. He'd cursed lightly under his breath, telling his troll bartender, a limber former soldier nicknamed “Salty”: “Keep an eye on them—at the first sign of trouble, call me.

“No problem, boss,” Salty retorted in his low voice.

But they hadn’t stirred up any trouble. He’d sent out, Flitzy, his goblin barmaid, to wait on them.

“What’s the story, Flitz?” he’d asked, leaning back against the kitchen counter as she barged through the swinging door with her large round tray.

“Eeh-bunch of Alliance noobs. Don’t think any of them have been to a neutral city before. They’re just doing the touristy thing.”

“They bugging other folk?”

“Nah.” She leaned past him to address Gwaise, his dwarven cook. “Two smallfish specials, a roasted moongraze tenderloin, one herbed baked egg salad, one kaldorei spider kabob, and one order of boiled clams in—”

“White sauce?” Gwaise interrupted her in an accented Orcish, brows furrowed.

“Ya didn’t let me finish: _white sauce_.”

Gwaise slammed some pans down on the range and signaled the assistant cook, a rangy troll fellow called Ja’zin. “Come on—we're on deck.” 

Thorg stepped away, not wanting to be in the way of Gwaise’s cooking frenzy.

He'd hung out behind the bar, helping Salty and chatting with the patrons. When he’d looked up into the dining room, he caught her appraising him. He narrowed his eyes for a moment as she swiftly averted her gaze. He knew that many folks who had never mixed with the other faction before were usually curious about the “enemy”. He also knew that their curiosity often was extended to more intimate aspects. The Blackwater Raiders made sure that their city was one of the few havens where faction animosity was kept to a minimum. They granted each faction their own neighborhoods but the streets were well patrolled. The goblin bruisers would swoop in on anyone who even _thought_ of starting something in the streets. The young woman's curiosity was a familiar song and dance, he thought. He even took advantage of such "interest" occasionally. It was part of Booty Bay’s allure: a hot, tropical port city where people came to dance, buy cheap drinks, and even have a little fun with members of the other faction. What had been the stupid motto the Raiders had promoted for awhile? “What happens at Booty Bay, stays buried in Booty Bay.” Running his bar, he had seen it all—occasionally even had to break up couples that had been swayed by the festive “anything goes” atmosphere to go at it in the alley next to the bar. 

He hadn't shied away from the woman's gaze; instead, he’d grinned back at her. She became flustered and immediately directed her attention to her party and he thought that was the end of it.

But no. She was back two nights later. This time, with a friend, a draenei woman. The two ordered a few drinks, huddling closely and whispering the whole time. He caught some of her “furtive” looks, but it had been a busy night at the bar and he hadn’t been able to indulge the flirtation. 

She was back again the next night... and the next. She always asked for a table closer to the boardwalk. She’d order a drink and sit quietly, looking out at the activity on the docks, at the ships, at travelers ambling about, speaking various languages. When he'd see her arrive, he'd nod and smile, like he would at any other regular. On the fifth night, a human man walked up to her table and spoke to her, pointing at his table, where there another human man sat. She smiled broadly and shook her head apologetically and the man shrugged, returning to his seat.

She returned for the sixth night.

Salty snorted.

“Guess she really be likin’ da ambiance,” he teased.

“Heh. I hear the drinks here aren’t half bad,” he teased the troll. The troll smirked, scooping out some ice into a cocktail glass.

“I can’t even be takin’ credit for dat—she only orders da cheapest ale in da menu.”

He raised an eyebrow and looked out at the solitary figure sitting at the table. She was running her finger over the tankard’s rim pensively. He watched her tilt her head slightly and risk a look at the bar again.

Okay. She was being persistent. He could appreciate that.

It was getting late and the crowds were starting to disperse.

“You good here?” Thorg asked Salty.

“Yah,” the troll nodded. 

He stepped out from behind the bar carrying his tankard. She looked up in surprise to see him walk in her direction and quickly tried to look off somewhere else. 

“Can I sit here?” he asked in Common, indicating the empty chair opposite her.

“Oh! Yeah, sure!” she said, smiling nervously. She tucked a lock of her reddish hair behind her ear.

He placed his ale down on the table and took a seat.

“Thorg,” he said, extending his hand to her.

“Kira.” She took his hand and gave it a firm shake. 

She was terribly nervous, he could tell. 

“I noticed you have been coming here quite a bit- I appreciate your patronage of my bar,” he said smoothly, raising the tankard to his lips.

“Yes, it’s…The location is really nice. I only just moved here, don’t really know too many people yet…I like sitting here and enjoying the view…You know, the boardwalk, the pier…” she explained, her blue eyes gazing at the landmarks.

He nodded, taking a gulp of ale.

“So…This is your bar?”

“Yes.” He smacked his lips and put his tankard down. 

“Wow…You must do good business!” she noted, looking about. 

“Hmm,” he agreed, nodding.

“Have you lived here long?” she wondered. She was toying with her earring, looking oh-so-coy.

He grinned at her.

“Long enough.” She was attractive. He couldn’t deny that. She was a tall, athletic woman, he thought approvingly. "Born and raised here…Did a stint in the military at Orgrimmar and now I am back.” It was all true and grossly simplified.

“I see.”

“And you?”

“Me? I am a healer—I moved here about…a week ago? I am apprenticed to the Argent Crusade's healers,” she explained.

He nodded a bit pensively.

“Why here, of all places?”

It was her turn to smile broadly.

“Because there aren’t too many places to learn and practice medicine on other races in Azeroth! This is an _amazing_ opportunity to learn— and hopefully, help.”

“So you are curious about other races?” he wondered, tilting his head.

She blushed. He could see the flush of color on her cheeks. 

“I want to become the best healer I can be.”

“Had you ever been among members of the Horde before?”

Flitz brushed past them, collecting a few empty glasses and bottles from a nearby table. He could tell she was trying to listen in on their conversation.

“Yes, of course. The Argent Crusade works with both factions.”

He leaned back in his chair folding his arms behind his head.

“Yeah, if you’re talking about the Argent Crusade, you’re talking mostly about blood elves.”

Her gaze was drawn to his chest, which was practically bared, as he wore an unbuttoned black vest.

“Well, true… maybe not ALL members of the Horde are evenly represented, but—”

“What about orcs? Have you met many orcs before?” he wondered, examining her with hooded eyes.

“Not really. I mean, I’ve seen a few around here. Haven’t really met any… Until you, that is!” she said, recovering, with a saucy little grin.

He chuckled, his chest rumbling softly.

“So I am your first orc…”

She blushed harder and he found it very alluring.

“Have you met many humans?” she countered, arching an eyebrow at him.

“ _Esarus thar no'Darador!_ ” he quoted the old saying theatrically, raising his tankard to her. She appeared pleasantly surprised and raised her empty tankard to clink against his.

“ _Esarus thar no'Darador!_ ” She repeated, bumping her tankard against his. “You do speak Common pretty fluently,” she continued, after their toast.

He shrugged.

“Comes with the territory. Anyone who lives here long enough needs to learn at least some Orcish or Common… It’s a must if you do business…That and a few Goblin curse words.” He grinned. “By the way, it is bad form to toast on an empty tankard. Can I get you another drink?”

“Oh, of course! Sorry! I’m just sitting here, taking up space…” she said, embarrassed, reaching for her coin pouch. He reached across the table and stilled her hand.

“Not what I meant: this one is on the house,” he explained. 

He noted with satisfaction that her face remained beautifully flushed. She was very attracted to him. He could tell.

“Thank you—that’s really…kind.”

They sat and chatted for a bit about Booty Bay and he gave her some pointers about where to go, what to see, some holidays to be aware of, the best places to purchase souvenirs, and the like. She was at ease, he noticed, and their conversation flowed naturally.

“Thorg,” Salty called from the bar. “Gwaise needs you.”

He briefly raised his hand in a sign that he would be right there.

“Need to wrap up a few things for tomorrow,” he explained to her. She appeared a bit disappointed.

“Of course—no problem!” She fiddled with the handle of her tankard for a bit, her eyes downcast, as he stood up to leave.”Thank you-for the ale and for the recommendations.”

“Would you like to go to dinner tomorrow night?” he asked casually.

She was adorably flustered.

“Oh, tomorrow? Tomorrow night. Ah…Let me see…I don’t think I have anything…” she babbled nervously. “Sure!”

“Perfect. Meet me across the pier at nine,” he indicated with a jut of his chin. “A couple doors down from the Salty Sailor Tavern.”

As he walked back toward the kitchen, triumphantly, he caught the amused glances of Salty and Flitz out of the corner of his eyes. 

_And that’s why I have to invite Kira to have dinner somewhere else_ , he grumbled to himself. His crew was always watching, ready to bust his balls.


	2. Reconaissance

Kira fussed with the dress, muttering under her breath. She hadn’t worn it in a while. Not a _long_ while, but apparently just long enough for it to feel too tight around her hips. She glared down at the taut fabric hugging her hips and accentuating her butt. Her friend and roommate Thalyssa pursed her lips and assessed the situation.

“It’s a look,” the draenei concluded. Nearby, sitting on her bed, was Arialeth, another roommate, a night elf whom the Argent Crusade had assigned to their house. She held Kira’s hairbrush patiently, waiting to do a braided hairdo for the human.

“Arialeth, what do you think?” Kira asked, brushing her hands over the front of her dress.

“It is rather snug… Do you have another dress, perchance?” she wondered.

Kira grimaced.

“No. I didn’t expect to go anywhere for a while…I kept thinking I could always buy something here…” she remarked dourly.

“It is not unattractive,” Arialeth quickly added. “It should be fine if the event isn’t anything professional.”

“Definitely not professional…Although we can agree dinner is merely a formality…” Thalyssa chuckled, throwing her arm over Kira’s shoulder. “If all goes well, that dress will only play a small role in the first act of tonight’s proceedings.”

Arialeth furrowed her long silvery eyebrows.

“Oh?” She looked at Kira, somewhat puzzled.

“It’s just dinner,” she explained, growing flustered at Thalyssa’s comment. “I struck up a friendship…with someone I recently met and we’re just going out to dinner.”

Thalyssa grinned in a knowing manner.

“That _someone_ is someone for whom you planted yourself down at a bar night after night in hopes of meeting!”

Kira ignored her and sat down next to Arialeth on the bed, cursing silently at the dress' lack of give, turning her back to the night elf so she could style her hair. The elf ran the brush over her hair a few times before taking a section to braid.

“I happen to like that aforementioned bar: what’s wrong with sitting outside after work to enjoy a drink and the view of Booty Bay harbor?”

“Oh, I am SURE you were enjoying your view of 'booty', alright…” Thalyssa laughed.

“Will you stop it? We struck up a friendly conversation and he’s just being nice—that’s all!”

“Ok, ok, I’m sorry.” Thalyssa began to fiddle with a few bottles of perfume and oils on her small dresser. “I’m just impressed. We’ve only been here for…What?…About a week? And you’re already getting your booty bay’ed…” She sighed.

“I don’t even know what that means!” Kira glowered at Thalyssa as Arialeth’s nimble fingers worked through her hair.

“Seriously. Good for you. You’ve been into him since the night we arrived.” Thalyssa grinned.

“He’s interesting,” Kira managed to add.

“Very. And I want to hear every detail about Mr. Hawt Orc later on, deal?”

Kira was about to retort when she felt Arialeth’s fingers halt their plaiting.

“You are going out with an orc?” she asked.

 _Uh-oh_ , Kira thought. Thalyssa she knew well and knew that the loud and gregarious draenei was open minded and curious about the Horde, as well. She had relished the chance to go to Booty Bay and teased Kira with silly talk about which of the Horde races was hotter, which was likely to be better in bed, which was most endowed, and other luridness. Arialeth she didn’t know that well. She had no idea if the night elf harbored strong opinions of the Horde and if she was inclined to side with Alliance loyalists, who truly believed in their own exceptionalism and superiority. She’d always been told that night elves found themselves better than the other Alliance races, anyway.

“I know, right?” Thalyssa interrupted. “A big, strong, manly orc…Sworn enemies of the Alliance!” she continued, with dramatic verve. “Uuugh… Makes it all the more hot, doesn’t it?”

“We’re just having dinner,” Kira noted flatly.

“And if you play it right, he can be your dessert! Oh…That’s so sexy— big naked muscular orc covered in whipped cream—”

“Why are you having dinner with an orc?” Arialeth wondered, her fingers resuming their work once more.

“He’s a nice guy.” She shrugged. “Why not? I mean, it’s just dinner…Not like it’s going to lead to anything.”

“Do you like him?” Arialeth fastened the braid and then sat back, primly resting her hands on her knees.

Kira snorted.

“What is it with you guys? I’m not looking for a boyfriend or anything like that! It’s just dinner!” she cried.

“Maybe more?” Thalyssa raised an eyebrow.

“Maybe…But it won’t lead to anything—like you said, he’s an orc.”

She stood and walked to the mirror. The braid looked beautiful, she thought. When she looked at the night elf through the mirror, she noticed her expression had clouded.

“It might not be my place to say anything.” She looked down, contemplating the small mess of packing boxes in the room. “But may I offer you a bit of advice?”

Thalyssa cast her a wary glance.

“Ok?”

“This orc… Don’t forget he is a person. I understand you know little about orcs except for the stereotypes--both positive and negative-- that have circulated among the Alliance. I understand that seeing him as curious and exotic may seem very alluring and exciting, but I can assure you that we, Alliance and Horde, aren’t all that different from each other.”

They all fell quiet for a moment.

“I find that humans, especially, have a tendency to treat those who don’t look like them like they are lesser.”

Kira turned to look at the night elf with surprise.

“What makes you think I am—”

“The way you are talking about him.” She peered at Thalyssa, too. “Like he is something meant to be used, to satisfy your curiosity…And then tossed aside, without concern for his feelings on the matter. Without any concern of making him feel unworthy.”

Kira could see that Thalyssa was about to argue, but then she noticed Arialeth’s eyes were brimming with tears. 

“Arialeth…What’s wrong?” Kira asked, approaching the elf.

“I’m sorry…This is a sensitive topic. Before being stationed here I had a beloved who was human. I believed we were building a future, that our love was deep and certain…And then I found out all he was interested in was having sex with a ‘hot night elf’.” Tears dropped from her silvery eyes. “He wouldn’t even introduce me to his family. When I challenged him on this, he told me he had no intention of making anything between us official—that I would never be accepted into his family and that I would thwart all his ambitions. And if we ever came to have children, they would be—” she paused and her voice cracked. “Mongrels.”

Thalyssa crouched beside her.

“What an asshole, Aria. I am sorry that happened to you.”

“Thank you,” Arialeth continued, running the back of her hand over her cheek. “I’m sorry, Kira. This just brought back bad memories. I was discarded. All along I had misunderstood my beloved’s intentions. I was ready to brave the disapproval of my kin for our love. He merely saw me as an interesting and exotic toy. All I ask you is: be honest with this orc. Just tell him what you want and are looking for from him. If he knows your intentions, he can make a choice. And hopefully, no one gets hurt.” She tried to offer her a faint grin and then left the room.

Thalyssa and Kira didn’t move for a few moments, struck by the elf’s passionate plea. After a moment, Kira looked at Thalyssa guiltily.

“After that, I don’t even know if I want to go out anymore.”

* * *

Thorg strolled down the pier casually, his hands in his trousers’ pockets. He’d decided to arrive a few minutes earlier in case Kira wasn’t sure where to go. The pier was bustling with the usual assortment of tourists, sailors on furlough, and souvenir peddlers. He passed the Salty Sailor and nodded to the bouncers on duty— four burly goblin bruisers he knew by sight— and exchanged a few greeting words with before leaning over the pier’s railing. He closed his eyes for a moment and inhaled deeply, taking in the briny sea air. Despite the hour, it was still hot outside. He heard a low whistle and opened an eye. It was an older troll: a peddler he recognized and joked with sometimes.

“Ya be lookin’ fine!” she called out to him in Orcish. 

He grinned and waved and she cackled gleefully before disappearing into the crowd.

He was aware of the appreciative stares he attracted. He was a tall green orc, a bit hard to miss. Although he was muscular, he was not as compact and stocky as some of his brethren. He was more slender than other orc warriors. Because of that, he’d been given the role of scout when he’d served in the military. He’d amassed a reputation for being strong, agile, cunning…and fearless. He had a full head of thick black hair that he wore in traditional orcish fashion: two thick braids tied in gold cuffs rested over his shoulders, while the rest of his hair was fastened into a half ponytail. He didn’t think he was particularly handsome, but women of various races had remarked that they were attracted to his rugged, virile looks.. 

_Whatever works_ , he thought, exhaling loudly and pulling out his goblin pocket watch to check on the time.

_9:12._

He dropped the watch back into his pocket and crossed his arms over his chest. He’d chosen to wear a black tunic that evening to bring out the contrast of his green skin and hazel eyes. She was late. Maybe she’d chickened out? Maybe he’d called her bluff too early, he thought, with a twinge of regret. 

He turned his head when he heard hurried footsteps in his direction.

There she was, an apologetic grin on her face. 

“Hey.” He pushed off the railing and stood before her.

“I’m so sorry I’m late!” she blurted out a little breathlessly. “Something came up just as I was leaving the house.”

He raised his eyes toward the hillside behind her, where the Alliance Quarter sprawled over. “Everything ok?” 

She nodded. “Yes, yes, everything is fine.”

“Well…You’re here now.” He offered her his arm to escort her through the pier. He noticed her dress. It was a deep dark green and cut in a popular style he often saw on human women: it had a square neckline, mid-length sleeves, and a long skirt, but hers, far from being loose, hugged her curves. It especially made her hips and behind prominent.

 _Not that I mind_ , he thought, disguising a grin as she engaged in polite conversation with him. 

* * *

Kira was nervous. She was having trouble thinking straight. She had tried not to think of Arialeth, but the closer she got to the pier, the more she started to second guess herself.

 _What am I doing here?_ she wondered nervously. _What does it mean that he asked me out to dinner? What do I really know about orcs and how they go about romance? Does accepting to go to dinner with him imply something I don’t know? Am I leading him on?_

He led her down the pier and then turned down a small alleyway that led to a little courtyard. A wooden sign with “Firefin” painted rustically greeted them over a screen door. It was a tiny hole-in-the-wall restaurant. It was the kind of place that had zero flash and catered to locals. A rich, pungent odor of spices hit them as Thorg opened the door for her. 

“Not much for ambiance, but I guarantee it’s the best seafood in all of the Eastern Kingdoms,” he leaned closer to her, uttering softly, his breath warm against her ear.

She was tense, terribly self-aware as heads turned to glance at them once they entered the room. Once they sat down, though, she began to feel more at ease. She saw both Alliance and Horde members enjoying their meals. She noticed a goblin and a gnome dining together. Another table consisted of a large group of humans, trolls, a couple orcs, and a draenei. 

“Privateers,” he whispered, peering over the grease-stained sheet of paper sitting on the table and listing the limited menu. “You know Booty Bay is run by the Blackwater Raiders, right?”

“I thought they were pirates.” She’d leaned in, whispering very quietly so as not to be overheard.

“Not much of a difference. Depends on which ship you are on when they begin to raid.” He smirked.

No one seemed to pay them much attention.

After a few sips of wine, she felt a bit better and tried to enjoy the dinner, which, admittedly, consisted of some of the best seafood she’d ever had. 

She noticed throughout dinner that Thorg tended to be more reserved. He was quiet, observant. He seemed to enjoy watching her sample the different food brought to their table and let her ramble inanely, which she did out of nervous giddiness. Sometimes she found him probing her eyes, watching her with an inscrutable expression, and it made her heart pound faster. That, of course, kicked off a vicious circle of disorienting confusion.

_What do I want?_

***

Something was off, he observed. He got that she was nervous, but it was more than first-date jitters. It was almost as if as soon as she began to relax and have fun, she’d remember something that dimmed her enthusiasm. They sampled a few delicacies and finished a bottle of wine. He pulled out his pocket watch and checked the time.

Almost 11:30. 

He shot a meaningful glance at the troll who’d brought them their food and reached for his coin purse. Her eyes widened as he did so.

“Wait!” she almost shouted.

Conversations halted and for a few seconds heads turned to peer their way. She sank into her chair, embarrassed. 

“You were saying?” he asked her, with an air of amusement.

“I’d like to contribute,” she stated.

He smiled politely.

“Ah. But I invited you.”

“Is that an _orc_ thing?” she blurted out.

_I see._

She had been late and was behaving oddly. The likelihood that it all had something to do with his being an orc was growing and growing, he thought with a twinge of annoyance.

“Yes, it is,” he lied. “And if you don’t let me buy dinner, it’s tantamount to an act of war,” he declared somberly. She looked alarmed for a split second. “Consider it a welcome to Booty Bay,” he said coolly, placing some coins on the table.

“Thank you,” she finally replied. Then her expression softened. “No, really: thank you. You’ve been so nice to me.”

He nodded.

“You’re welcome.”

* * *

The evening hadn’t cooled down one bit when they stepped out. The larger crowds had dispersed, though, and shop fronts had already closed.

They walked up the pier, in the direction she had come from. He walked her to the large archway that framed a winding cobblestone road that led the hill to the Alliance Quarter. Thorg stopped at the archway.

“Would you like me to see you home?” he asked. 

“No, no…It’s fine,” she assured him. He felt a wave of relief, as he preferred not to provoke anyone by strolling brazenly through the Alliance’s neighborhood with one of their own, no less. The streets were well lit and he glimpsed a goblin patrol strolling leisurely toward them.

“Thank you for the company. I hope you enjoy your stay in Booty Bay.” He nodded again at her. “See you around,” was all he said.

He didn’t wait for a response and simply turned on his heels, thrusting a hand in his pocket and walking back toward the pier. 

“Thorg!” she called out. 

He stopped and glanced over his shoulder. She seemed to be wrestling with a thought and suddenly hurried over to where he was as quickly as her constricting skirt would allow.

“Thank you for tonight. Truly.”

_Okay?..._

“You’re welcome,” he repeated, unsure of what she was fishing for.

He started to walk away again.

“Wait, that’s IT?” she despaired.

He paused and arched his eyebrows in bemusement. 

_Oh, she is a complicated one, isn't she?_ She’d been sending him mixed messages throughout the evening.

“What else were you expecting?” he asked, in his most innocent manner. “Did I miss something?” He narrowed his eyes at her. “Is this a _human_ thing?” he teased.

She winced.

“Listen…I’m sorry. I’m sorry about tonight. I’m just a little…Confused, is all. My roommates and I were talking before I came out tonight and it got me thinking and…I don’t know.”

 _Yes. Definitely complicated_. He pondered whether he wanted to find out why or if he wanted to be at the Rig for last call.

“No worries. No need to apologize,” he told her. “No harm, no foul.”

“No,” she insisted. “Look, I’m not normally like this…It’s just that my roommate reminded me that there are differences between…And it got me thinking…You know?” she struggled, rambling on. 

“No, I don’t know,” he interrupted. “Do I want to, though?” he asked her calmly.

She pressed her lips together before replying.

“All right. I already bungled everything up anyway. Can I be honest with you?”

“Honesty is always the best policy, unless you’re playing Outland Deuces,” the goblin patrol mumbled as he walked past them. “Evenin’ folks- are you comin’ or goin’?”

“Don’t know yet,” he replied, looking at Kira.

She sighed.

“Do you want to come up to my house so we can talk a bit?” she wondered, glaring at the nosy patrol who was watching them with interest.

He looked at the cobblestones ahead uneasily.

“Probably not the best idea for me to enter an Alliance neighborhood.”

“Oh, agreed!” the goblin retorted, a few steps ahead as he resumed his beat. 

“If you want, you can come to my place instead,” he offered. 

She pressed her lips tightly again.

“Wouldn't that be a bad idea also?” she countered.

“I don’t live in the Horde Quarter,” he quickly explained. 

“No?” She tilted her head slightly.”Then I guess it’s your place, then.”


	3. Negotiations

Thorg and Kira walked mostly in silence, at a less leisurely step than earlier. They were back on the pier but just before reaching the Rig, Thorg turned right and led Kira to a set of stairs leading to a walk-up next to the bar. Kira heard voices talking and laughing as she passed a screen door in the alley— it was the Rig's kitchen and it was lively. Thorg complicitly placed his finger over his lips, indicating silence as he gingerly gripped her arm and guided her up the dark steps. 

He unlocked the door, which opened to a large room over the bar itself. He ushered her inside, lit a few lamps and opened a sea-facing doorway to the rooftop to air out the stuffiness. Once light flooded the space, she could see the simple, almost spartan accommodations: in the wood-paneled room a slightly worn upholstered chair set close to a large bed pushed up against the wall. The walls were lined with wooden shelves filled with assorted belongings: many books, some touristy knick-knacks, seashells of various shapes and dried starfish and sea urchins. Hanging over a dresser opposite the bed was a large broadsword with the Horde’s insignia in red and black at the hilt. He pulled off his shoes and she followed suit, quickly reaching down to slip off her sandals. A slatted door nearby hinted at some kind of storage or closet, and another door opened a crack at the end of the room revealed smooth white tiles— an indoor washroom. 

Despite the stuffy air, the apartment was comfortable and tidy. The hardwood floors felt cool against her feet as she followed him to another door leading to the roof of the Rig. 

“Can I get you something?” he asked, reaching into a small icebox beside the dresser. She shook her head and he pulled out a dark bottle he uncorked.

Beverage in hand, he stepped out on the roof, sitting on a small stoop. He peered over his shoulder at her and pat the spot next to him, inviting her over.

She cursed silently as the dress squeezed her tightly when she sat. He tipped the bottle back and took a sip of his drink. 

“What a view,” she remarked earnestly. From that vantage point, she could see the pier below. If she looked behind her, she could see the lights of all the shacks and cottages and small houses on the steep hillside, overlooking the cove. It was a dazzling display: hundreds of pinpoints of light dotting the landscape among the tropical trees.

“How come you live here and not in the hills?” she wondered.

He shrugged. “I like it here better.” He followed her gaze and seemed to be searching for something among the dots of light in the hills. “I have a house up there,” he gestured with the bottle in his hand, “but I rent it out.” It was, again, the truth and a massive oversimplification. 

They sat together in a comfortable silence, just enjoying the mild breeze that had begun to roll in from the sea.

“So. What did you want to talk about?” he finally encouraged her. It was getting late, he surmised.

She nodded and appeared to be gathering her thoughts.

“Why did you invite me out to dinner?” she finally asked bluntly. “Like, what was the _expectation_?”

He smirked and glanced down at her. _Is she joking?_ But her expression was very serious.

“I’ll answer that question when you answer this one, first: why did you come to my bar almost every evening for a week and stare at me across the room?”

She began to blink nervously. “Ah… Yes. That.” 

He leaned back, now interested in watching her grow all flustered as he brought the bottle up to his lips again.

“All right. Here goes," she began slowly. "I was hoping to put it more delicately… but service at the Rig is terrible. It took me a week to get someone’s attention just to get a menu,” she fired. 

He almost spat his beer out. _Cheeky!_

“Ok, now YOUR TURN!” she prompted him. 

He snorted lightly.

“You came to my bar. You kept making eye contact with me. Why DO you think I invited you to dinner?”

Her eyes darted away from his, nervously.

“Let me help you out: I’m no scholar of human behavior, but I know just enough to understand that some things are universal and don’t require translation.” He looked at her, a small grin edging up his lips. “You saw something you liked and you went for it. I did the same.”

Even in the faint lantern light, he could see her face had turned beet red.

“I find you attractive.” He shrugged. “I’m guessing you find me attractive, as well. Nothing wrong with that, is there?”

“No,” she managed to reply.

“But…?” He looked at her questioningly. 

She sighed again and lowered her head. He playfully offered her his beer. 

“Need some liquid courage?”

“Look…I find you attractive.” She cleared her throat. “Like, _very_ attractive. But one of my roommates made a comment about being honest and not using people just to satisfy some curiosity. And now I am feeling a bit confused and guilty…Because, you are like, an orc and I’m a human.”

“Hmm.” He took a moment to consider what she was saying. She was greatly over-complicating what was supposed to be just a fun, casual romp that he was starting to have second thoughts about. He decided he appreciated the sentiment, which was ultimately considerate. 

“I’m not looking for a boyfriend or anything like that,” she quickly explained.

He grinned. It was kind of amusing that she thought he’d be all lovelorn over the first cute human who crossed his threshold.

“Who says I am?” he countered.

“I didn’t want there to be any misunderstandings,” she stated. “I’m just curious… but I don’t want to hurt your feelings or lead you on…Like, even right now I don’t know if it’s ok that I feel so attracted to you.”

_Oh, that’s interesting._

“You are? Right now?” he asked in a low voice, peering into her eyes.

“Yes?” She winced and he thought the way she crinkled her nose was adorable.

“Here’s what I think,” he began, placing the bottle down and turning toward her. “I think that you and I are two consenting adults.” He raised his hand and brushed some stray strands of hair off her face. His hand was large and rough against her cheek, but his touch was gentle. “I don’t see anything wrong with having a little fun with each other. You are being honest and upfront with me and I am doing the same: I am not looking for a serious mate.” That last statement filled him momentarily with a surge of bitterness. “So, you are curious about orcs… Nothing wrong with that. We ARE different, after all.” He stroked her cheek with his thumb and she appeared bewitched. He drew closer and nuzzled her nose with his. The warmth emanating from her skin tickled his senses: she smelled of mageroyal flowers. He brushed her lips with his and she shivered, closing her eyes. He tilted his head further and kissed her slowly, enjoying her soft lips against his mouth. He flicked his tongue against those luscious lips and she let out the softest, most tantalizing little moan. She reciprocated, opening her mouth, teasing him with her tongue. 

An orc’s senses tended to be far more sensitive than a human’s: he could feel her grow more aroused as they kissed. He could tell from observing her during dinner that she wasn’t as worldly or as confident—and he doubted she was as sexually experienced— as the women he usually spent the night with, but, _spirits_! She was making him so damned horny all the same with how sensitive she was to his touch, to him. He brushed his hand down her cheek, her jaw, caressing her neck, and finally palmed one of her breasts over the dress. She let out a little gasp and pushed into his hand. He sensed her pulse quicken and her smell grew sweeter. Muskier. If she was getting so hot just from some kissing and some light touching… He could not imagine what would happen once he slipped his hand between her thighs. Fueled by thoughts of how wet she was getting, he pushed her up against the door jamb and began to kiss her neck, careful not to snag his tusks on her skin. Her breath hitched as he rolled his thumb over her achingly hard little nipple beneath the fabric of her dress. He startled with delight when she placed her hands beneath his loose tunic, running them over his abdomen, up to his chest, raking her fingers over the coarse hairs on his hard pecs. He broke away from their kiss to yank the cumbersome tunic over his head and flung it to the ground. She stared at him in awe, taking in his broad shoulders, the tautness of his muscles.

“Have you ever been with a human woman before?” she wondered in a faint voice. 

“Mmm…Yes,” he uttered reassuringly, burying his face in her neck, inhaling her warm scent deeply. 

She raised her hand, halting his motion.

“Wait… You _have_? So…won’t this be, like, less fun for you?” she worried, visibly disappointed.

_What? What the—?_

He blinked in disbelief. What was she worrying about?

“Ok...Ok...That's...That's not really it. I’m sorry, Thorg. I’m feeling…So self-conscious!”

“Relax,” he encouraged her, leaning forward again.

“No, but—can we just talk a little bit first? I’m very conflicted.”

He inhaled deeply and sat back again. Spirits, did that woman want to get laid or not?

“Look, if you need to know, I didn’t ask you out just because you are _human_. I asked you out because I found you _attractive_ ,” he explained, with an edge of annoyance in his tone.

“See? That’s the thing: I don’t know if I am attracted to YOU because of YOU, or if I am attracted to YOU because you are an ORC!”

Ok. No one was getting laid. This had become an ethical discussion of sorts. He reached down and took a swig of his beer. Below, they could hear the bar begin to shut down for the night as his staff dragged in tables and chairs.

“Can’t it be both?” he reasoned.

“Isn’t that racist, though?”

“You tell me! Some guys prefer women of a certain type. Are they racist?”

“If they only want to have sex with a specific race, then isn’t that, like, fetishizing?”

He chuckled. Yes. She was no airhead, but she was a pain in the ass. What a time to delve into a debate on psychology. 

“I didn’t mean a different race. Some men like brunettes, some women have a thing for hairy guys. Is that discrimination? When do you draw the line between discrimination and just personal preference?”

“It could be discrimination if you close yourself off to someone who doesn’t match your narrow criteria and don’t give them an opportunity...Or if the only reason you get involved with someone is based solely on that very narrow criteria, overlooking other strengths and weaknesses,” she argued.

“Ok, then according to you, I should be knocking boots with my bartender because we really get along, and I’m missing out on a phenomenal romance because I’m not into dongs.”

Her eyes widened with surprise. 

“Look, you said it,” he said, raising his shoulders. “Dongs don’t fit MY criteria for having good sex. Am I discriminating or am I just exercising a personal preference?”

“No,” she argued. “Well, yes… but…Ugh! This is complicated, isn’t it?” she huffed in frustration. “I guess what I am saying is that I want to make sure I am attracted to you, REGARDLESS of the fact you are an orc.”

“Can you determine such a thing? Separate one from the other like that? Why complicate things? I really don’t mind being objectified by attractive women,” he joked. 

She furrowed her brow at him.

“I just…I don’t want to be a racist asshole, is all. I’m sorry, but that’s really bothering me and I can’t get my mind unstuck from the thought and it's getting in the way.”

He placed his hand on her back, caressing the nape of her neck, her shoulders. 

“Just the fact you are so worried about it makes me think that you probably are not a racist asshole,” he said gently.

“Thank you.” She placed her head on his shoulder. “I don’t know why I am freaking out like this…This was supposed to be a fun evening, but my friend’s comment made me all paranoid now and…I don’t want to hurt or take advantage of anyone or make anyone feel used or unworthy.” She raised her head slightly and peered into his eyes. “I ruined the evening, didn’t I?” She bit her lip.

She had the most adorable freckles sprinkled over her nose, he noticed.

“Mm… Let’s just say I’m ranking tonight as very memorable.” He raised his beer bottle into the night. “To your friend’s impeccable timing!” he joked. She smiled.

They sat that way for a while, enjoying the breeze while he finished his beer. When he was done, he placed the empty bottle on the ground, and began to get up, stirring her from her comfortable respite.

“Come on—I’ll walk you back to the Alliance Quarter,” he offered.

She stood up reluctantly.

“You know…I totally understand if you don’t feel the same way, but despite everything, I did enjoy spending time with you.”

“It didn’t turn out the way I expected it to, but you are definitely interesting, Miss Kira. I’ll be thinking about… our chat.” _And other things_ , he sighed to himself… _And other things._

“Oh great! Now you’ll be thinking and end up convincing yourself that you DO like dongs,” she grumbled, stepping back inside his home. 

He threw his head back and laughed heartily at that. 

She had a feisty side that amused him. 

“You know, I DO like dongs,” he informed her. She had made her way to the door and was putting on her shoes. She turned to look at him with puzzlement. “Mine,” he completed.

“You have more than one?” she asked, feigning surprise.

He roared with laughter.

“What? What? I don’t know much about orcs. It could be a thing, couldn’t it?” she joked.

“And if that were the case?...” he teased.

“Oh, then…For the Horde!” She grinned cheekily.

He shook his head laughing, regretting a bit that their date was almost over.

* * *

She took his arm as they crossed the pier again. As they reached the archway, he stepped back and nodded at her.

“Good night, Kira.”

She returned his farewell, but stopped short of turning her back to him.

“Can we try this again?”

A deep warmth bloomed over his chest.

He let his head hang down for a moment while he gathered his thoughts. She watched him expectantly.

“Listen, Kira,” he began very seriously. “As long as we are being honest with each other, there is something I should let you know…”

She held still.

“I don’t have two dongs,” he whispered, shrugging. 

She narrowed her eyes at him just before they both burst out into laughter. 

“So…You still want to give it another go?” he wondered. She nodded eagerly.

“Yes. Please.”

He looked at the ground, mulling it over.

“Tell you what…I want you to take your time. Walk around, talk to people. I want you to pay attention, especially to orcs.”

She was about to speak, but he held up his hand, beckoning to her to let him finish. 

“I want you to pay attention. If you aren’t interested in other orcs like you are interested in me, then stop by the bar and look me up. If you are attracted to all the orcs you see… Well, then you’ll know where you stand, right?” She nodded slowly and pensively. “Either way, look me up.” He grinned slyly, catching the look of amused reproach in her eyes just before he began the climb down the hill.


	4. The Best Plans

“I bungled it.” Kira dropped her head into her crossed arms over the kitchen table.

“Damn it, Kira! I was looking forward to living vicariously through you!” Thalyssa retorted grumpily. 

“It was going well, too! I mean, I was a mess during dinner. But once we went back to his place… Oh, it could have totally happened. It WAS on the way to happening. I mean, we were, like, kissing pretty intensely.”

Thalyssa rolled her eyes.

“And his hand was on my boob,” she added defiantly.

“Over or under your dress?” Thalyssa asked.

“Over.”

“Meh. Go on.”

“Ok. How about this: I got to touch his chest,” she confided giddily. At this Thalyssa raised an eyebrow.

“Did you, now? Do tell!”

“He is… Mmm… So strong… It was like running my hand over a slab of stone, except warm…” She sighed dreamily.

“Ok… Ok… That’s good. Then what else happened?”

Kira blinked at her friend in mild surprise.

“Then… We kinda… Stopped. Arialeth was in my head and I couldn’t stop thinking that I was being awful.”

“Aaugh!” Thalyssa groaned. “This is as bad as those ‘and then his parents arrived’ stories that interrupt stuff right before it’s about to get good and where no one gets any in the end!”

“You want some, go get your own!” Kira scolded her. They grimaced at each other. 

“Well, I spent the evening having drinks with Arialeth. Poor girl had a bonafide asshole boyfriend. But even as she was telling me the story of their relationship, there were so many red flags; I can’t believe she didn’t pick up on them.” 

“Maybe she thought she could change him?” Kira rested her chin on the edge of the table.

“Oh, sweetie… Do-it-yourself projects are for gardening and decor… not men. Go for the grown-ass model, not the starter kit.”

Kira chuckled.

Thalyssa sat back in her chair and toyed with a cup that had been left earlier on the table. 

“I’d rather be on my own than with a waste of time and space.”

Kira yawned.

“We’re going to try going on another date.”

“Good. And this time, you won’t mess it up.”

“But this is kinda nice, too, because we’re getting to know each other,” she stated sleepily.

Thalyssa squinted her eyes at her.

“Kira, have you ever had a one-night stand? Do you even understand what that is?”

Kira grumbled something under her breath.

“It’s about attraction, it’s about having fun… with no attachments, no commitments. Why is that so hard for you to do?”

“But it could be a little nicer if you are attracted AND like the guy, too, no?”

Thalyssa laughed.

“Yup. Just as I suspected. You’ve never had a casual fling.”

“It’s a casual fling with quality, time, and depth,” she argued, a hazy grin emerging over her lips.

“Uh-huh. Also known as a _relationship_ ,” Thalyssa teased.

* * *

“So…How was dinner with your Alliance friend?” Flitzy asked as they all finished their communal lunch in the kitchen. He put down the specials list Gwaise had asked him to approve and peered down at the spitfire goblin giving him a knowing look.

“We went to Firefin,” was all he said. 

Ja’zin nodded approvingly. “Dey do a good sagefish. Da batter be jus’ right.”

“Zabella stopped by earlier and said she saw you walking back this way with ‘a fire-haired girl’,” Flitzy continued, wiping her mouth with a napkin.

Zabella was one of the many peddlers spread out on the pier selling cheap trinkets. _Of course_ he couldn’t wander about the pier incognito.

“Oh, a fire-haired girl? Who could dat be? If ya was walkin’ dis way, did ya stop by da Rig wit her? I didn’t see ya!” Salty teased. 

“Yeah—totally missed you two! If you were headed this direction, surely you must have been on your way here, right?” Flitzy goaded him. “I mean, where else could you have taken her?”

Now Gwaise, Ja’Zin, and Salty were all watching him expectantly, amusement in their expressions.

Oh, how they liked to pesk him about his romantic life.

“We didn’t stop by the Rig,” he muttered.

Flitzy clutched her head feigning confusion.

“Wherever did you go, boss?”

His nostrils flared. It was a little ritual among his staff: one surefire way to flap the unflappable boss.

“I took her upstairs, all right?” he admitted.

The jeering and clapping began.

“And another Alliance member falls to the Horde!” Flitzy cheered. Gwaise shook her head slowly.

 _Oh, the irony_ , he thought. If they only knew how relatively chaste their encounter had been...

“What do I pay you all for? Isn’t there work to do? We open in…” He checked his pocket watch. “15 minutes! Time to move it!” he scolded them gamely. They were still snickering as they rose from the kitchen table.

* * *

  
During the next couple of weeks, Kira was very observant.

The orc standing in line before her at the bank completely obstructed her view. He was bigger than Thorg. And, by the Light, _ripped!_ His arms were…logs. He was a tight, compact bundle of muscles. 

“Excuse me,” she tapped his arm gingerly. “Do you have the time?” she asked in broken Orcish.

The face that turned to look at her was that of an older orc with broad lips flanked on each end by double tusks. Dark green eyes peered at her beneath heavy lids. The orc had a face tattoo, too, of lines and other geometric shapes swirling over his jaw and temple. He examined her for a split second before mumbling something she didn’t understand.

“Ok, thank you!” she replied, her cheeks ablaze.

 _He’s impressive, but other than the fact I am keenly aware that I made an ass of myself, I feel nothing_ , she noted to herself.

Two days later she found herself interacting with an orc who ran a fruit stall by the clinic. He was quiet and reserved as he cut the sunfruit she bought with a large machete, but she’d noticed him sneaking stares at her as she fumbled with her coin purse. As flattered as she was, she didn’t feel anything special toward him. And he, too, was muscular, dark-haired, and had the clearest blue eyes she’d ever seen. The next day she worked with her healing mentor at the clinic and helped him see an orc patient. Her mentor had her lay hands on his lower back for pain he’d been complaining about. The orc was strong, his back was marvelously firm and rippled with muscle… but she did her job and was not distracted. She found herself perking up and paying attention in the streets upon passing orcs. Some were handsome, others looked interesting… and a few others scared her a bit.

But not one of them could get her mind off Thorg, she realized.

* * *

Over two weeks had gone by. But, damn, if he didn’t occasionally raise his eyes to the tables facing the boardwalk, puzzling briefly at the disappointment he’d feel.

Maybe Kira had taken his advice to heart, he thought.   
Maybe she really did have an orc kink and that’s all it ever was and some other lucky orc was happily fucking her right at that very moment.   
_It could have been me_ , he thought sullenly, remembering how soft and warm she’d felt in his arms... 

“Boss?” Salty startled him from his thoughts. He looked back up at the troll as he wrung out a dishtowel and hung it over the rim of the sink. “Everytin’ all right dere? Ya look like ya gettin' ready fo battle. Don’t be scarin’ da clientele,” he remarked, as two dwarves pulled up to the bar.

He snorted and slapped the troll on his back.

“Nah…Just making my peace with something,” he revealed. He nodded at the dwarves. “What’ll it be?”

* * *

  
It was early in the morning still when Kira made her way across the wharf. In her satchel, a change of clothes, a toothbrush, and a hairbrush. She had a carefully laid-out plan she’d been hatching since the previous night when she had been rehearsing how she would tell Thorg she wanted to spend the night with him. There had been some momentary panicking that morning as she realized she had exactly zero pieces of sexy lingerie and agonized over trying to seduce him in her comfortable and frumpy cotton small clothes. The dilemma was solved with a very satisfactory compromise: if there was a chance she and Thorg would be getting amorous again, she would merely excuse herself and slip off the offending garment. She figured the next best thing to frilly undergarments was NO undergarments. It was a great plan: she decided she would stop by the bar after her shift, later in the evening. She decided, though, that she should probably give Thorg a heads up. It would be very unfortunate if he were already occupied. And by occupied, she meant already planning on spending the night with another woman. Not that he didn’t have the right to, but it could happen—beautiful women filled his bar night after night and she’d been away for a while, after all. She decided she would test the waters and see if Thorg would be receptive to her brilliant plan. 

Kira really hoped he would, she thought, clutching her satchel tightly, as she approached the closed bar. She walked to the alley, but hesitated at the steps. What if he wasn’t alone? What if he were put off by her appearing there at that time. What if she appeared desperate? What if—

_You know what, this was a mistake coming by so early. I’ll just show up tonight—make it casual. Say hello. If the opportunity seems right, I’ll go for it and—_

The kitchen door slammed open and she was face-to-face with Gwaise, the dwarven cook. The woman seemed to startle briefly upon finding her just standing there, looking like a terrified rabbit. The woman took a pipe out of her apron and began to pack the bowl.

“Are ye comin’ or goin’?” she asked in her thick burr.

Her mind went blank in mortification. 

“Uh, I haven’t decided yet,” she replied, loathing her lack of finesse after the words left her lips. _Quick, Kira: what’s weirder? The cook telling Thorg you were standing out here on his landing or that you are here to say hello? Let’s go with the less psychopathic choice._ “Actually, I was hoping to talk to Thorg,” she began in a chipper tone. “Is he around?”

The woman puffed on her pipe a few times before handing it to Kira.

“Hold this fer a bit.” She wiped her hands on her apron and squinted at Kira. “Who should I say is lookin’ fer ‘im?”

“Could you tell him it is a potential supplier—as a joke?” she said, suddenly inspired.

“Supplier of what?” Gwaise wondered dubiously.

“Coconuts.” She grinned. It was hilarious, she thought.

Gwaise sniffed, her face blank before she stepped back into the dark kitchen and disappeared.

 _Coconuts? What. The. Fuck. What was I thinking? The guy already thinks I’m a nutjob. Calm down,_ Kira agonized.

* * *

Gwaise popped her head into his makeshift office in the pantry.

“Thorg: someone ‘ere to see ye.”

“Who?” he asked absent-mindedly, trying not to mess up the mental tally he’d been keeping in his head as he worked on his ledger.

“Potential supplier,” she insisted.

“Of what?”

“Coconuts.”

He put down his pencil and peered over his shoulder at the dwarf.

“And you are bugging me with this instead of telling him to fuck off because…?” he wondered.

“Mystery of the Makers, jus’ get yer arse out there!” she scolded him.

He pushed up from his chair and stormed down the narrow hallway, through the kitchen, slamming the kitchen door open, ready to tell that “supplier” to cross the Rig off his list and never make a cold call again when he saw her standing there, like a vision: a wish fulfilled.

* * *

He couldn’t conceal the grin that crossed his lips.

“Well, if it isn’t Miss Kira. It’s been awhile. What brings you here today? My cook said something about coconuts?”

As if on cue, Gwaise stepped out and walking up to Kira, unceremoniously took her pipe back from the young woman’s hand before disappearing around the corner to enjoy her break.

She grew adorably flustered at the sight of him and he loved it. 

“Look, I just need you to know: I’ve been hanging out at the competition for the past couple of weeks,” she began, tilting her head toward the pier, “and you really need to up your game. Coconut cocktails are all the rage. Get on it.”

He crossed his arms and leaned against the wall, eyeing her with amusement.

“Oh? That’s where you have been?”

She offered him a beautiful smile.

“Actually, I have been very busy… Doing research.”

“Oh?” He raised an eyebrow.

“Yes. And I’ve come to a remarkable conclusion.”

“I’m sure you have,” he agreed, surprised by how relieved and flattered he was that she was standing there, being so sweet and flirty with him.

“So,” she began. “So!” she said again, pausing to clear her throat. She took a deep breath and he just wanted to pull her into his arms right there, she was such an adorable dork. “Okay, can we just scrap that? I had rehearsed this really cool line that I was going to deliver to you in the most sultry manner, but then forgot it involved me actually saying it out loud to you and—”

“What’s the line? Now I want to hear it,” he teased her, his grin growing wider.

“I was going to say something like, ‘I don’t have a thing for orcs…but I do have a thing…for you.’”

“And you say you came to this conclusion after a lot of research?” he furrowed his brow at her.

“I must have ogled every orc in Booty Bay to reach that conclusion,” she admitted. At this he laughed.

“There must be a number of very confused and disappointed orcs walking around town now,” he joked.

“So, what do you say?” she asked.

“Such scholarly research deserves a humanitarian award.”

She chuckled.

“I was thinking…Are you busy… Tonight?” she asked hopefully.

She was so cute, so eager, he thought.

“I’m free,” he told her. “What did you have in mind?”

“I thought I could stop by once I got off my shift?…”

“And what time is that?”

“Around 10:30? 11:00 at the latest?”

“All right,” he said gently. “I’ll be tending bar tonight, so stop in when you arrive.”

Her eyes lit up.

“Perfect!” She was so delighted, she began to walk away in a slight dither. “I’ll see you later,” she called out, turning around.

He pretended to look indignant.

“You’re not even going to buy me dinner first?” he complained.

At this she grinned mischievously.

“I’M dinner,” she joked.

“I can believe that—since you’ll probably chicken out,” he provoked.

At her look of shock he laughed, shaking his head. He watched her march back up to him.

“Look, I AM NOT chickening out. I even came prepared for this,” she declared. She grabbed her satchel and after rummaging through it for a smaller pouch, which she tied to the sash of her healer’s robe, offered it to him. “My change of clothes and a few other personal effects. Might as well keep it here for later,” she told him.

He grabbed the strap, a sly grin still on his lips. 

“Well?” she asked him defiantly, her hands on her hips.

He leaned in, catching her off guard, and whispered, “I’ll be waiting,” before he planted a soft kiss on her cheek.

* * *

“You’re in a good mood today!” Flitzy concluded after their daily meeting to go over specials, schedules, and such. 

“Yes, so don’t push it,” he warned the goblin.

“How come?” she insisted.

“I’m just a cheerful guy,” he stated dryly.

Gwaise looked up from the pile of potatoes she was peeling with Ja’Zin.

“Must be the new coconut supplier he contracted,” she stated enigmatically.

“Coconut supplier?” Salty grimaced. “We gonna be doin’ dat touristy cocktail shit dey be doin’ at da Salty Sailor, mon?”

He glared briefly at the self-satisfied Gwaise, who was suddenly very focused on her potatoes.

* * *

The accident at the mine must have happened mid afternoon. Thorg saw the boardwalk grow dark from the shadows of large flying mounts. He, his staff, and even the patrons stepped out onto the boardwalk to stare up at the sky. A squad of goblins had been deployed and it was headed in formation into the jungle. 

_This is bad news,_ Thorg noted. 

A couple hours later, he heard the story: an explosion had collapsed part of a mine shaft the Venture Co. had been trying to establish illegally a few miles south of the Crystalvein Mine. An unease had settled over the entire city as reports of injured workers began to emerge. Soon, boats that had answered distress calls began to dock at the main port, and a flurry of Alliance and Horde members congregated on the pier. Steamwheedle Cartel bruisers directed the flow of traffic as stretchers, among the other wounded, disembarked 

“Come help,” he ordered his staff. He and the others created a water station of sorts for all the emergency responders crossing the boardwalk.

A flume of smoke had spiraled into the sky and could be seen for miles. He stood out of the way on the dock peering up into the cloudy sky. 

Fire was the worst. He caught Salty’s uneasy gaze, knowing that the scene was uncomfortably familiar for both of them. 

They avoided looking too closely at the charred bodies being transported hurriedly to Booty Bay’s small hospital. 

* * *

A heavyset tauren who was a longtime patron and something of a commercial liaison between the Steamwheedle Cartel and Mulgore had stopped in, pleasantly surprised to find them somewhat operational. “Some of the injured have been flown to Stormwind, but the heavily wounded are being brought here— the hospital has summoned all healers and is sending overflow to local clinics,” he explained.

“What a mess.” Gwaise pressed her lips together tightly as she leaned against the wall.

“Blasted Venture Co.,” Flitz muttered. “They never learn.”

“Dis gonna be causin’ waves in da Steamwheedle Cartel.” Salty crossed his arms. 

“Who’s in charge of Venture Co. now?” Gwaise wondered. 

“Probably Razdunk. The shoddy operation is a giveaway,” the tauren said.

“Were there a lot of local folks involved?” Flitz wondered.

“You know who the Venture Co. recruits: their enterprises are all suspect, all on the down-low. So, yes, you will find the poorest, most desperate of Booty Bay among the wounded and dead for sure,” the tauren explained glumly.

Flying mounts glided into the city, landing in the hills. Booty Bay’s hospital sat further up in the hill—toward the middle, in what was known as a more neutral neighborhood. It was where most of the goblins who had any political sway in town and had curried favor with Baron Revilgaz resided. Thorg’s eyes searched in the general direction of the Argent Dawn’s modest clinic. He tried to imagine the small, normally tranquil building teeming with hectic activity. It was a charity-based institution funded by donations from both factions. It attained some renown throughout Azeroth for its research of tropical diseases and production of venom antidotes. He thought of Kira and wondered how she was faring in the aftermath of that tragedy.

 _Wherever you are_ , he thought, _I hope you are all right_ , he thought earnestly. 

* * *

It was past midnight by the time he locked the doors to the bar and made his way to the stairwell leading to his home. The lights on the hill burned brightly. Mounts flew in and out, mostly from the hospital area. Boats had begun to arrive with travelers seeking information about loved ones. 

He closed his eyes and remembered Orgrimmar: refugees wild-eyed, fires consuming entire streets, the glint of metal and and the scent of blood— 

_This isn’t war_ , he told himself firmly. _It is a disaster. But it isn’t war. At least, not yet._

He stepped into his apartment and noticed the small leather satchel hanging from a wooden peg by the door with a squeeze to his heart. 

Although he doubted she would make it to him that evening, he slept poorly, tossing in his bed, alert to any sounds in the alley below. 

The small lamp in a nook by his door burned until dawn.

* * *

The next day, he thought of looking for Kira. Just to make sure she was all right. Maybe bring her her satchel. He just had this niggling urge to go to her. The tauren stopped in again, the boardwalk a little less chaotic that day, except for the boats bringing people looking to claim injured and dead relatives.

“It’s a bloody mess. The healers are complaining of a lack of supplies and a shortage of healers. We are trying to bring in more of both. Did you hear about the latest? A ship carrying medicine sailed from Silverpine. Alliance navy vessel intercepted the ship off the coast of Westfall. They are accusing them of running supplies to the Horde. _Medicine_!”

Thorg cast a quick glance at Salty, who held his silence as well. He knew Salty was thinking the same thing: they shouldn’t trust the Forsaken too much. 

“I have a…friend,” he quickly added, “who works at the Argent Dawn's clinic. Was thinking of stopping by to check in,” he mentioned, eager to evade a conversation about politics. 

The tauren snorted loudly.

“Don’t bother!”

“Why is that?”

“It’s complete chaos. No one will stop to talk to you or help you. You’ll just be in the way if you go. Besides, healers are being pulled from various clinics and sent to the hospital or other locations. Best to wait until things calm down somewhat.”

“I heard the shortage of healers is so bad, some healers are going into second and third shifts without a break,” Flitzy remarked.

“And where did you hear this from?” Salty asked from behind the bar.

“You forget two of my cousins are bruisers?” she retorted crankily. 

Thorg glanced at the entrance of the bar as a patron walked in.

With every new arrival, a new disappointment and a growing concern.

None of the arrivals was Kira.

* * *

She finally appeared on the third night, just as he and Salty were ringing out the last customers. He had raised his head and peered at the entrance.

And there she was.

At last.

He could see how pale and wan she appeared. And the expression in her eyes—at once pained and haunted. He knew that look well. It was a look of disbelief and powerlessness in the face of a great disaster.

“Go to her, boss,” Salty muttered to him also taking in the broken figure at the doorway. “I got dis,” he assured him.

* * *

Kira raised her head tiredly, her eyes gradually registering his approach.

“Hey—are you all right? I was thinking of you with all of this going on,” he told her. He whisked her away from the entrance gingerly, away from prying eyes. He led her to the alleyway and when they stood before the stairwell, she folded into a crouch, hugging herself. He crouched down as well, raising his hand to caress her disheveled hair. “Talk to me,” he pleaded.

Instead she let out a sob, her frame shaking as her face crumpled and her lips parted in a silent wail. 

_I know_ , he wanted to reassure her. _I know. Nothing prepares you for the sight of so much death and suffering._

Instead, he drew her back up into his arms, and she gripped him tightly, burying her face in his chest. 

They remained that way for a few minutes. He rested his chin over the top of her head and waited until her breaths became more even.

“I’m sorry… for showing up like this,” she managed to utter very quietly. “I…don’t want to go home. I don’t want to be alone,” she whispered. “Is this okay?”

He nodded. 

“Come.” 

* * *

Thorg could tell she was shell shocked. She waited at the doorway as he lit the lanterns. She was wearing the same white robe she had worn when she had seen him last and he noticed a few specks of blood on her skirt. There was a large stain along one of her sleeves, but it was too yellowish to be blood. _Iodine_ , he realized. He reached into the closet and pulled out a fresh, fluffy towel and one of his cotton tunics.

“Here. Take these and wash up. I guarantee you’ll feel a lot better,” he ordered her. “When was the last time you ate?”

She was looking at him as if in a haze, as if he were speaking to her in Orcish. She tried to think, her eyes perusing the ground.

“Last night?…Or was it early this morning? It was still dark.” She looked at him, betraying her exhaustion. “I can’t remember.”

“All right—go get cleaned up and I’ll have dinner for you.”

He watched her walk slowly to the bathroom. 

Just as he was about to leave the room, she peered out. 

“Thorg?” She found him standing at the door, ready to bound down the stairs. “Thank you.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he replied softly.

* * *

He brought her a bowl of broth, some bread, and because Gwaise wouldn’t let him leave the kitchen without it, her personal favorite all-purpose medicine: a bottle of whiskey.

“No more than a shot or two—just to quiet the nerves,” she instructed him as she locked up for the night.

When he reentered the room he found her curled up on his bed. As she sat up, he noted with some relief that some color had returned to her cheeks. Her hair was damp from the bath and he noticed with a squeeze to his chest that his tunic engulfed her. She had had to roll up the sleeves and he saw that the tunic almost went down to her knees. 

“Special delivery from the Rig,” he announced, winking at her. He placed the bowl, the bread, a couple utensils, and the bottle of whiskey on the dresser.

* * *

“They just kept coming… Even though we had nowhere to put them. Stretchers lined down all the hallways. It was horrible: I couldn’t hear… Everyone was shouting,” she told him, her eyes haunted. 

_It’s noisy, chaotic. Something else takes over—fight or flight,_ he remembered, his fingers gripping his bottle of beer tightly. 

“We were told at first that the mine shaft had collapsed…But then we saw the victims...And all of them had sustained burns. One of the miners told us the fire burst through the tunnels like a dragon’s fiery breath.”

Thorg glanced at the bowl in her lap, his mind far away, remembering a night when his commander had been steeling them all to fight a dragon.

“Eat,” he encouraged her, offering her a cup of water, as well.

They had kept her on duty for practically three days straight. They finally dismissed her when she started to become a hazard to herself and others. 

“I just collapsed. One second I was walking and the next I was face down. When they pulled me to my feet, I began to head toward my destination as if nothing had happened. And that was the third time. My mentor insisted I be allowed to leave or they would have to be making room among the beds for me.” She swallowed a few gulps of water. “I have to return after tomorrow.” She sighed. He took the cup from her and placed it on the nightstand. 

“Then you should get some rest,” he told her, watching her stand up and place the half-finished bowl back on the dresser. He turned down the sheet and pat the bed. She fell into it tiredly and scooted to the opposite end. “I’ll be outside, if you need me,” he told her.

She raised her head slightly from the pillow.

“Outside?”

“I have a hammock,” he explained. “It’s nice—fresh air.”

She shot him a pained look. 

“I’m putting you out, aren’t I?”

“Get some rest,” he insisted.

“You shouldn’t have to give up your bed because of me.” She made as if to get up. “I can take the hammock—you sleep in your bed.”

“Absolutely not.”

“It’s misting outside,” she protested. “You are going to get soaked.” 

He glanced at the door leading to the roof. He could head down to his office, he thought.

She squirmed further into the bed, her back practically against the wall.

“We can share, you know,” she suggested.

He thought he caught a slight glint in her eyes.

“Don’t worry, I’m too exhausted and miserable to make a move on you tonight,” she confessed.

He raised his eyebrows in surprise.

“That was the farthest thing from my mind!”

She seemed to revive a bit at his reaction, a smile curling over her lips as she rested her head back down on the pillow.

“I’m the worst date ever, aren’t I?”

He snorted lightly before taking a towel from the closet for himself.

“Where are you going?” she asked sleepily.

“I’m taking a shower,” he told her. 

“Okay. And then you are coming to bed?”

He grinned. It had a nice ring to it, coming from her lips.

“Yes.”

“This bed, right?”

“With you in it, even.”

Her eyes closed, but she was still smiling.

“Good.”

Just as he was about to enter the bathroom, she spoke again.

“Hey, Thorg?”

He peered at her.

“Hm?”

“I hear third time is a charm. Do you think we could try this…” She yawned. “Again?” she asked very softly.

“I’m afraid of what disaster will occur next if we try this again,” he teased. 

She mumbled something incoherent from the bed. He could tell she was mildly incensed at his words…but far too sleepy to argue with him.

***

She was out like a light when he slipped into bed beside her. He watched her softly breathing and he resisted the urge to reach out and caress her face. She wore a pained expression even in her sleep. He blew out the candle on the nightstand and settled on his side, facing her. Far from being frustrated, he felt at ease. He was glad she had come to him. Before he could delve and ponder that too deeply, though, he felt her move, tossing slightly, and he worried for a moment that he had disturbed her much-needed rest. Instead, he found her reaching for him, her arm bracing his torso, burying her face in his chest. He held perfectly still, unsure, until he heard her soft breathing again. Slowly, he rested his arm around her, holding her close to him. It had been a long time—a very long time, in fact, since he had simply held anyone so close like that, he thought. It was sweet and intimate and it was starting to alarm him a bit…but it also felt terribly nice, and that’s what he indulged, as he drifted off to sleep with Kira in his arms.


	5. The Unexpected

Kira awoke before dawn, her eyes opening and finding the room still dark, enveloped in a dark gray haze. She raised her head groggily, momentarily confused as to where she was until she sat up in the bed. She squinted down at the tunic she was wearing before staring out the window for a few seconds. 

_Thorg’s!_

She was at Thorg’s, she remembered, turning her head to find the large orc sleeping soundly beside her. She grinned sleepily before peering out the window again. Rain fell continuously, drumming lightly over the roof. She pulled up the sheet, feeling the coolness in the air. She settled back down in the bed, rolling over to face Thorg. She felt a twinge of guilt as she watched him sleep. She’d barged in on him, a complete mess, practically collapsing on his doorstep and dragging him into her turmoil. They hardly even _knew_ each other, if she were being honest. But, she thought, her gaze roving over the masculine face framed by thick, black sideburns, she found herself at his doorstep as if guided by some inner compass that compelled her to find him.

Kira had to admit she liked him. A lot. And the fact that besides being hot and funny and charming he was also kind and generous was making her feel even more infatuated with him. She raised her hand and gently caressed one of his sideburns.

No reaction.

His skin was warm, she remarked to herself, scooting closer to him. She gingerly traced her fingertip over one of his bushy eyebrows, quickly drawing her hand back with a mischievous grin when he furrowed his brow and huffed lightly. She watched him for a few minutes, until his breathing grew deep again before venturing another little caress, this one barely grazing the tip of his nose. He immediately scrunched it and grunted groggily. She cupped her hands over her mouth so she wouldn’t burst out laughing, he was so funny and cute. She was about to reach out and try again when a large hand shot up from beneath the sheet, intercepting her wrist. She let out a small cry of surprise. He opened one blue eye to look at her.

“ _Never_ try to sneak up on a sleeping orc,” he cautioned her sternly. 

Her eyes widened and she shrank back, mildly panicked.

“I’m sorry…”

His expression immediately shifted to amusement.

“Got ya, didn’t I?” he asked, chuckling.

She felt her face flush.

“The only thing you’re sorry about is getting caught,” he teased. 

“You weren’t supposed to wake up.”

“Well, forgive me for not withstanding your poking silently.”

She sniffed, feigning airs.

“I can overlook it this time.”

He grinned, turning on his side.

“This time? Do you mean to tell me there will be _others_?”

She blushed even harder. She hadn’t meant to invite herself… Holy Light, she was already wallowing in her own awkwardness and had been up for—what-- all of ten minutes? Before she could reply, though, Thorg leaned past her and peered out the window.

“Look at that…It’s raining pretty hard.”

He wasn’t wearing a shirt and his muscles rippled as his torso turned.

“How come you’re up so early?” he asked in a softer tone, settling back against the pillow and folding his arm behind his head.

“It’s a reflex. Maybe from living a life of work shifts? I can’t sleep straight for more than a few hours at a time.”

He reached for his pocket watch, sitting on the nightstand, and checked the time.

“Well, you got about four hours of sleep.”

“Do you need to get up yet?” she wondered. 

He placed the watch back down and looked at her.

“Nah. Nowhere to be until late this evening.”

He held her gaze, examining her.

“Should I— Maybe I should leave and let you start your day?” she offered, suddenly feeling very shy. 

He grimaced as his gaze darted to the window, the rain pelting the city outside.

“You could… but it’s raining pretty hard. Doesn’t make much sense for you to leave now.” He stretched lazily. “Want some breakfast?”

She grinned.

“I’m fine, thanks. I don’t really eat this early in the morning.” 

“Too early to eat, but not too early to harass sleeping orcs.”

Her eyes narrowed and she grinned.

“I like to live dangerously.”

He chuckled.

“I have to respect that. It’s a very honorable death wish.”

She pursed her lips at him.

“You’re a bit cocky. How do you know I don’t have a few tricks up my sleeves?” she challenged him, sitting up on her knees and flapping the giant sleeves of his tunic that were drooping comically from her outstretched arms.

“Hmm. I suppose you could hide a battalion of dwarves up there,” he teased. She looked so sweet, her eyes peering at him sleepily, her red hair spilling messily over her shoulders. 

“Ooh, don’t flatter yourself!” she countered. “Gnomes, _maybe_. Not dwarves.” She rolled her eyes and he chuckled again.

The low rumble of thunder sounded overhead. Thorg rubbed his eyes tiredly.

“It’s still pretty early. You should try getting some more sleep.”

She clasped her hands and placed them between her knees.

“And where are you going?”

He grinned.

“At this ungodly hour? I’m staying right here.” He reached for one of her hands, his fingers brushing over her knee and leg. “You’re welcome to join me.” Their fingers twined and he pulled her to him. She nestled up to him, her head resting on his shoulder.

“Thorg?” she whispered, once they were settled cozily beneath the sheets, the rain lulling them to sleep.

“Hm?”

“You’re the best fling I’ve never had.”

He closed his eyes and laughed.

“Seriously, at this point, we should just go and get married. I hear there is very little action in that as well,” she concluded.

He enjoyed just being with her, joking lightheartedly like that. 

“If you promise to always make me laugh like this, I will consider your proposal.” He chuckled.

“ Done! Just don’t expect me to wear white to the wedding: white is for _chaste_ brides,” she warned him impishly.

“I wouldn’t know anything about that, would I?” he joked, a wistful tone in his voice. They were both chuckling. “Now, will you settle down so we can get some sleep?”

“What sleep? I have a wedding to plan!” 

“Ssh! You’re a pain in the ass,” he joked. He’d meant to give her a playful slap on the behind, but when his hand made contact with her, it landed on smooth, bare skin, not cloth. They both held still for a moment, a blank expression on both their faces.

 _Forget sleep_ , Thorg thought, excitement starting to course through him. 

“Aah…Miss Kira…Did you attend the soiree in my bed last night... sans undergarments?” He held his hand in place over her warm and round behind.

“Erm, I can explain,” she began, hilariously flustered. “So, I borrowed one of your undergarments…and…and... the _gnomes_ that I hid there absconded with them.”

Spirits, she was naked under the tunic, so enticingly warm and soft.

“Now you do offend me,” he said.

She grimaced, unsure as to whether he was teasing or not.

“It should be _dwarves_ , not _gnomes_ hiding,” he explained. He splayed his hand over her hip and then gripped the hem of the tunic, tugging it up to undress her. She eagerly helped him pull it off and the tunic was hastily tossed across the bedroom. She was completely naked and he could feel the rush of blood to his cock when he looked at her breasts, the nipples so achingly hard. He enveloped her in his arms, her eyes half closed as he pulled her up against him. “Miss Kira,” he said in a husky voice, “I believe you had impure intentions toward me from the moment you slipped into this bed…”

“I had impure intentions from the moment I stepped into _your bar_ …” she admitted. 

He kissed her hungrily, all pretenses falling away. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt as eager and triumphant about successfully getting a woman into his bed. 

And right then, he couldn’t get enough of her as he kissed her mouth roughly, his hands roving over her soft, warm naked body, palming her breasts, cupping them and drawing his mouth over her nipples, loving how she closed her eyes and bit her lip as he sucked and licked them. She was so lovely, he thought, noticing how her red hair fanned out over the pillow. She ran her hands, trembling with excitement, through his hair as he continued his downward trajectory, a trail of kisses over her skin as he paused over her navel, her chest heaving. He undid the drawstring around the bottoms he’d worn to bed, quickly slipping them past his hips, freeing the erection that had begun to throb once he focused his gaze over the little tuft of reddish hair between her legs. She sat up, resting on her elbows, staring at his cock.

He had the impression she genuinely looked alarmed for a moment.

“We’ll take it slow,” he assured her, tugging at himself slowly. 

He took pride in being a generous lover who enjoyed the preliminaries as much as the act itself. He knew that once he was done teasing her, she would be begging him to make love to her—

He was jolted from the thought by his choice of words.

 _This isn’t making love_ , he scolded himself. _This is a fuck_. _Like any other_ , he told himself sternly. And she would be begging him to fuck her tight little—

“Thorg?” she whispered. “Is everything ok?”

He blinked slowly, momentarily disoriented, his cock in his fist.

“Yeah…I was just wondering if I had condoms in my nightstand,” he lied.

“Want me to check?” she offered, beginning to turn toward it, But before she could do anything else, she felt herself being pulled down over the bed and her legs parted. She let out a small squeal of surprise before she caught his roguish grin as he lowered his head between her thighs.

Spirits, she was going to drive him crazy. She was so excited. He just loved how horny she was as he gently spread her lips apart. Her sex had that blush of arousal and he couldn’t wait to taste her. He teased her a bit, kissing her thighs, grazing his unshaven cheeks against her tender skin and she let out a delightful shiver. His tongue darted over her pearly pink clit and she let out the most enticing little moan. His cock twitched sympathetically as he began lapping at her, savoring her musky, sweet taste. It was electric how her moans went from faint to sweetly pleading as his tongue ran up and down her folds, carefully teasing her eager clit with kisses and firm lashes of his tongue until she was writhing with pleasure, panting softly, her hands carding through his hair. When her hips began to undulate and he felt she was close, he quickly pulled himself up and over her. 

_Not yet_ , he thought, amused, when she looked at him with a flash of indignation. He reached over her to the top drawer of his nightstand, quickly feeling around for a condom. He straddled her hips, sitting over her, carefully taking the condom out of its wrapper, taking delight in the lusty looks she was giving his cock. Before he could put it on, though, she surprised him by sitting up and pushing him down on the mattress. 

“I win,” she said slyly, pinning his arms down.

“Um…I’m definitely not fighting you…You can have your way with me all you want,” he sighed. She leaned over and kissed him— but her kiss was not a provocative kiss like the ones he expected from his trysts—the usual display of erotic experience and skill. Her kiss was tender. She kissed him softly, her hands caressing his face with obvious care.

She was so into him, he thought, flattered.

She tossed her hair over her shoulder and he narrowed his eyes at her, charmed and very aroused by her initiative. She grinned and gave him a taste of his own medicine, as she nuzzled his ear, planting small kisses down his neck, over his chest.

And the way she glanced up at him as she glided down his body... He couldn’t help cracking a smile even as he found his breath hitching when her silken hair tumbled over his thigh. He licked his lips expectantly as she gripped him and contemplated his large cock. When she circled her tongue slowly over the engorged head, he let out a grunt of pleasure. Spirits, she was going to make him melt if she kept looking at him that way, her eyes fluttering shut, her tongue lapping at him before her wet lips slid over him, taking him into her mouth. 

“Fuck!” he grunted breathily.

She was a vision he would not forget anytime soon. Who knew he had a thing for redheads? he thought, his hand sweeping her hair gently off her face as she sucked him, trying to take all of him in. His chest was heaving as the tantalizing sensations she was provoking in him grew stronger, more urgent. He loved the contrast of her fair skin against his, her pink tongue lapping his hard green cock. He let her suck and lick him for a while, watching her as if mesmerized, until he felt the first stirrings of the powerful, barreling orgasm she was going to give him if he let her keep at it…And he didn’t want to be done just yet. 

He pulled himself away from her mouth, noting her surprise.

“Hey!” she scolded him. He was too excited, though. He wanted to cum deep inside her, succumbing to an odd desire to possess her at the most primal level, letting it seize him as he fully unfurled the condom over his cock. 

Later on it would be the only plausible explanation for what he did next, which was to flip her on her back and quickly position himself between her legs. 

Here he was, supposed to be this great lay and all he wanted to do was feel her close against his body, missionary style.

_Missionary style._

Of all the things to do: he chose the most vanilla sex _ever_.

_Damn it!_

He would later slap himself on the forehead, but right then he was far too gone and lost in his own desire to think any further about it. Instead, he knelt before her, his fingers teasing her clit while his other hand pumped his cock in a steady rhythm. He took his time. He was horny as all hell, but he wanted her to be close to cumming once he entered her. With each stroke of his expert fingers, she grew wetter. She shut her eyes so she could focus on the pleasure he was giving her. Without skipping a beat, he switched his fingers with his cock, rubbing the head over her clit, between her folds.

She was panting softly, her eyes closed, her lips parted with excitement. He let his cock glide over her, feeling her twitch against him, letting the tip burrow deeper and deeper inside her with each pass. 

Spirits, she was so close, he thought, watching her closely, enjoying the way she arched her back and parted her legs further, so eager to take his cock.

Mm, he thought lustily, as he began to push himself inside her—hot and wet and _oh, so tight_. She felt so, so good He hissed as he finally hilted in her. Her lips shaped a small “O” and he just couldn’t resist: he lowered himself and kissed her as his hips began to thrust slowly, letting her adjust to his size and girth. She wasn’t a petite woman, though: her strong legs wrapped around him tightly and she raised her hips to meet his thrusts. 

“Thorg,” she moaned tenderly, her eyes glazed with pleasure. He took a deep breath, adjusting his hips, waiting for a reaction showing him that he’d found the right angle, the one that put just the right amount of pressure on her clit. It didn’t take long. She let out the sweetest whimper and he had to kiss her again. “I’m going to cum,” she whispered, her arms wrapping around him, holding him close, her lips seeking his.

He could feel her beneath him as her body tensed and the first wave of her release hit. She cried out and he inhaled sharply, feeling her tighten around his cock, her sex pulsing. He held her tightly, thinking they were as close right then as two people could ever get, watching her furrowed brow, her clenched jaw, soften as she came so intensely. She was so overwhelmed by her orgasm that she could barely kiss him and he rested his forehead against hers instead while he thrusted slowly and deeply, making sure he had pleased her completely. 

After a little bit, he opened his eyes and found her watching him, her expression serene and loving, her face flushed and her arms holding him. It was his turn to pant harder, his chest heaving as he bucked into her faster. He was just so happy right then, with her in his arms like that. Yes, she felt good, but it was more than that. 

_It feels so right, so perfect._

She soothed him with kisses, watching him reach his orgasm, his entire body shaking as it coursed through him. He gasped and grunted and her legs tightened around him, as if she never wanted him to go, her kisses sweet and reassuring as he gradually slowed down, catching his breath. 

They looked at each other, lost in each other’s gaze as the rain fell outside.

A warm, fluttering feeling lodging in his chest.

_That had been pretty good. Intense._

He withdrew from her, focusing on not letting the condom fall off and with a loud, playful, kiss, rolled onto his side of the bed with a content grunt.

He found it endearing how she rested on him, burrowing her face in his neck, her breath warm, her hand resting over his chest, caressing him.

“Wow,” she whispered.

He couldn’t help chuckling.

“So, how was your first sexual experience with an orc?” he teased.

She raised her head.

“I think I have to go home and write a fancy scholarly paper now, and go win some prizes for finding the cure to all the world’s ills.”

 _She was so cute, such a doofus_ , he thought, shaking his head, his chest rumbling with lazy laughter.

“Oh, so I am a panacea now?”

“Mm!” She nuzzled him, a feathery kiss landing on his cheek. “At least for me you are.” The smile she offered him was disarmingly beautiful. “My hero, who wrested me from the clutches of tragedy, exhaustion, and overtime to find shelter, nourishment, and bliss…” she began playfully.

Again he was seized by an impulse to grab her and hug her tightly, enjoying the feel of her body against his. He loved sex, enjoyed losing control, and had shared some incredible evenings with many of his partners. But _that?_ That encounter was affecting him differently, he realized.

In fact, he puzzled over it long enough that she fell asleep.

 _What is it about you?_ He wondered, his eyes darting over her peaceful face, the long lashes, the spray of freckles dotting her nose so adorably. _What is it about you that brings out this need, this protectiveness?_ he wondered. 

_This is going to have to be a one-time thing_ , he thought, with a sharp pang. 

He buried his face in her hair. It smelled like soap, fresh and flowery, he thought, closing his eyes, hoping for sleep to arrive quickly so he didn’t have to think any further. He caressed her, his world feeling right: more than it had in… a very long time.

 _Yes, a one-time thing_ , he repeated drowsily.

But she didn’t have to go home yet.

He didn’t have to let her go just then, he thought, falling into a peaceful slumber.

**Author's Note:**

> "Run a Rig" is pirate lingo for playing a prank on someone. Very appropriate for Booty Bay...  
> "the archaic human words: "Esarus thar no'Darador", which translates to "By Blood and Honor We Serve". These words are often found on the cover of religious tomes in the world of Azeroth." (From the World of Warcraft Wiki.)


End file.
